Afterwards
by Badi-otaku
Summary: Most people don't make it back alive from the Rook Islands. But for the ones who manage to leave, what's left for them, except their life? Far Cry 3 One-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay guys! So, here is another translation of one of my old stories. For this one, I wanted to do something that change from my habits, I'll explain myself…**

 **First, I know that English language has its own grammar, conjugation, punctuation, etc., rules… And also for simple things like dialogs in written works. Now, you know that English isn't my first language. For this reason, I never really bothered to write my stories, and especially my dialogs, following these rules. So far, I wrote my stories like I would write them in French (with French grammar rules, which by the way I didn't always respected), but for this one, I decided to change that. Therefore, I tried my best to write it following the basic grammar rules for the dialogs (quotation marks and all that stuff…).**

 **However, I'm not completely sure that it will be right. So, if you guys have some advice to give me to improve my writing in English, don't hesitate to put it in the reviews! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Afterwards

 _Psychiatric Hospital, San Diego, USA, 2012._

Three men were walking down the corridor. Cries and muffled noises were resonating. Two of the three men were strongly built and were dressed with a white uniform, there were employees at the hospital. They surrounded the third man who looked shorter. He was wearing glasses and a white blouse.

"With all due respect, Dr. Bradford," Started on of the employees, "we highly doubt that healing her is possible, even though your methods already proved their efficacy on most of our patients. She's really special." He said.

"There is no patient like another, and even if the treatment doesn't succeed, it allows us to progress in our researches and it helps us create other methods, to help another person to heal." The doctor replied.

They came in front of a metallic door at the end of the corridor. The doctor took a step forward and looked inside the room through the peephole. A young woman was sitting, crossed legs, in the center of the room. Her arms rested wearily on her legs. She was swinging back and forth, staring at the floor with a blank stare.

"She was brought here a week ago, she speaks our language but she only lets out some words or bits of sentence. She remains like that all day and barely sleep." The employee explained to the doctor.

"Does she eat what you give her?" The doctor asked.

"She drinks the water but she only eats some fruit, she refuses to eat anything else."

"And how did you find her?"

"A young man brought her here, he didn't say his name, nor hers."

The doctor then started to unlock the door, he stopped for a moment. "Can I go in alone?" He asked.

"Yes, she is not dangerous." The employee answered.

"Good." On these words, the doctor opened the door with a grinding noise. The girl lifted her head abruptly and stood still. She stared at the man without looking at him. She rested her index finger over her lips, "Shhhhh…" and instantly put her arm back in its original place.

Her look fell to the floor again and she started swinging again. The doctor started to approach her so that he could hear what she was mumbling. Her speaking was punctuated with gestures. He was intrigued and studied all the details of her behavior.

"What are you saying?" He asked softly. Though, it seemed like she didn't notice him, she was still swinging.

"He's coming. Shhh. No, don't talk." Her hands on her mouth. Her hands on her eyes. "Don't look. No. Shhhh." She pulled her hands away. "Listen. You have to. Obey. Yes. Obey. Shhhh. Don't cry." Hands on her eyes, silence. "The brother. The brother. Obey. The brother. He's gonna. The brother. Kill. Kill them all. The brother. He's approaching."

The doctor was focused, he was fascinated by the girl; he never had to deal with such a behavior. After observing her, he started applying his methods. He had to establish a contact with his patient. He first handed her a plate and cutlery he had brought. The plate contained a mouth-watering piece of meat, perfectly grilled on the outside and rare on the inside.

Her eyes landed on the plate and she froze. She then pointed a finger toward the meat with a frightened look. "No. This. Not this. This, friend. Your friend. Not this." She stammered.

The doctor wrote down all his observations in a little notebook. He retrieved the plate and resumed his work.

"Do you have a name?" He asked softly.

"Name. Girl." This time, she looked at him in the eyes. Her eyes, reddened by fatigue, were sinking in his.

"Your name, you," He said, pointing his finger toward her so that she could understand, "do you have a name?"

"Girl. Girl. You belong. Him. Girl. Thing. His thing."

"Who are you talking about?"

"The brother. Fear. The brother. The fear." Her voice was trembling, her face contracted and her eyes wet by emerging tears.

He tried to reassure her, he put a hand on her shoulder but she pulled away abruptly, dragging herself on the floor. Bulging eyes, short breath, she was looking at him with terror.

"No. Not touch. No. Do not touch. Otherwise, die. They all die." She curled up, looked at her hands and started to count with her fingers. "One. Two. Three…"

She kept counting while the doctor tried a new approach. He took two steps forward and crouched, but the girl moved further away only to find herself stuck in the angle of the room, facing the wall. She then started to scratch the concrete wall with her nails as she spoke, only a few words were escaping her mouth, words that didn't make any sense for the doctor. But he still wrote them down.

"Escape. You have to. Leave. Away. Run." She stopped moving, pressing her head between her hands. "No. No. No escape. Run, useless. The brother. Find. He will find you. He's coming. Shhhh. Don't speak." Hands on her mouth.

The doctor stood up, sighing. He was experimented enough not to be surprised nor scared by his patient's behavior, but this girl instilled fear, angst, pain? He was horribly uncomfortable around her. He may not be able to heal her, but studying her case would be more than interesting.

"Well, we're done for today." He said as he exited the room.

The young woman took her place in the center of the room again, sitting, swinging, and quietly humming the melody of _The Ride of the Valkyries_.

Back in the corridor, the doctor asked the employee, "Did the young man who brought her here say where he found her?"

"Yes, he mentioned the name of an island, uh, something like 'Rook Island'…"


	2. Message

**Hi there! So, after reading a few of your feedbacks, I proceeded to write this little message. A few of you asked me whether I would continue this story, so here is my answer:**

 **This story was actually meant to be a one-shot. The aim of the story was to try to imagine what kind of life could have a person that returned alive from Rook Islands. Someone told me it would be great to know what happened to the girl featured in the one-shot. Well, this is precisely my goal with this story, it's to leave that to your imagination.**

 **However, if you really want to know what happened to this girl, I could maybe figure something out and write her story (you could even give me some ideas…). So if you are interested in a story like that, just let me know in the reviews or by messaging me, and I'll do my best to make that happen.**

 **Anyways, thanks for giving your feedbacks and I hope to hear of you soon. Bye!**

 **Badi-otaku.**


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